Hitman
by Liquid Fire KAN
Summary: AU. This wasn't the life he'd chosen for himself. No - it had chosen him. He'd never wanted to kill nobodies - because killing nobodies made you a nobody. And no one would no when a nobody died; no one would care - not that anyone was around to care anyways. Mature content.


**Disclaimer: BLEACH and all trademarks are the rightful property of Kubo Tite and Shueisha Publishing.**

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**Nobody's Skeleton - Rat's Got Revos**

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Maebara Oshima's limp body fell to the ground with a dull thud. The scent of fresh blood was thick in the air. It pooled around the pale corpse growing paler still until finally there was no more of it left. Nearby, a man in black trench coat looked on unconcerned as he pulled his fedora over one of his eyes. When the blood came too close to his pitch black boots, he took a step back. Not that his boots were well-kept or anything of the sort - no, he smiled, his line of work wasn't particularly conscientious where neatness was concerned. As long as you looked menacing enough to your enemies, as long as you were inconspicuous enough to avoid being noticed, as long as you were smart enough to not leave behind any traces - nothing at all - you would make out just fine.

If you didn't - what had happened with Oshima would seem mild. The poor kid had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time; or he had just been at the right place at the right time. No matter how he looked at it, Oshima would have died anyways. If he hadn't come, someone else would have. It might have been Take or whatever his name was. He wasn't advocating what he had done - shooting someone was bad, no way around that - but at least he had only put one hole in the bloody kid. If Take had found him, or so the rumors went, no morgue would have been able to identify the body. Then again he supposed, maybe it was just a rumor. In his eleven years as a hitman, he'd never run across the guy - and he'd run across a lot of guys.

There was that bastard who'd tried to jack his shipment, the other one who'd tried to hack him in half with a saw, the other one who'd tried to rip him off and make a quick buck - and that was all within the last week. The rest he couldn't remember - they were nobodies. Every now and again, he'd get a flash of some face, an echo of both a distant and not-so-distant past, but they meant nothing. They were all dead anyways. Now, Maebara Oshima was too. Tomorrow, the world would hear it on the news - how some bastard had shot an innocent teenager in the chest. For a few weeks after, they would mourn, and there would be talks of reform, of more funding for police departments Japan-wide. Soon enough however, they'd forget. They always did. Before long, Maebara Oshima would be an utter nobody. The only people who'd remember would be his family - provided he had one - but once they died, that link would too be lost.

Carefully studying Oshima's face, he tried to imagine the kid's life. Maybe he'd had a girlfriend, maybe he'd had a pet that would miss him. Hell, he thought, maybe the kid was just trying to ring in some extra cash to pay for college and came across the wrong career consultant. A couple of years and it looked like he'd pass out of highschool. His clothes were the same as everyone elses - light blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a navy blue down jacket overtop. Nothing unusual - Oshima was just an average kid. The man sighed, adjusted his fedora, and lit up a cigarette. The scent of the rotting corpse was beginning to overpower his senses and the tobacco had a sort of calming effect. Then, he glanced at his watch - it wasn't even close to dawn yet. There was plenty of time before the cops would come looking for a missing person; plenty of time to dispose of the body remained.

He'd worry about that later. There was something else on his mind. He strode forward. His feet splish-splashed as he waded through the sea of blood on the floor. The shoes would have to be tossed, so would the knife with which he tore through the kid's jacket and then shirt. 'No,' he thought, 'nothing... It's just as I thought. Just a brat. Just a stupid brat who was stupid enough to pull a gun on me.' That reminded him - reaching over the corpse, he carefully lifted the grey pistol from the ground. He'd have to toss his gloves too. He sighed, popped out the barrel, sighed again, popped it back in, aimed at nothing in particular and released the trigger. There was a hollow sound. 'It's not loaded... I was right, huh?'

"Fucking idiot..." he muttered and there was a soft laugh from behind him.

"So it was a dud after all, huh, Kurosaki?" the voice mused. "I suppose I owe you an apology." The man in the shadows laughed. "I guess, I was really wanting him to show up. But he didn't did he? Just as you said... I'll buy you ramen or something sometime..."

Kurosaki Ichigo scowled, "Whatever... We'll worry about that some other time... For now, just help me clean up, Toriatsukai-san." Throwing the gun over to his companion, Ichigo reached into Oshima's pockets - his jacket pockets, then his trouser pockets. Without any identification, the police wouldn't have any clue where to start their investigation. Thousands of people turned up dead everyday. Some died naturally of heart attacks and strokes, others died of diseases, and still others were murdered by robbers, gangsters and criminals alike. Innocents were murdered by criminals, criminals by criminals. Without identification the corpse was a nobody; nobody would claim it, nobody would be able to tell the police squat, and by the time the family would have at last identified the body, the trail would have already gone cold. Then Oshima truly would disappear.

"Oshima, huh?" Toriatsukai wondered. "And he has an unloaded pistol. So I reckon that this Oshima is not our guy?"

Ichigo shook his head. "No. Just some blasted kid who thought he'd be a hero if he stopped me from taking the package. Just some darn kid in the wrong place at the wrong time." He paused to collect his thoughts. "Still, I couldn't take any chances, so I finished the job anyways."

"I see. It's going to be troublesome to clean up. His family will be searching for him." Toriatsukai grimaced. "But I do understand that you had no choice in this really. So I guess it can't be helped. We'll have to burn his personal effects of course, and his clothing."

"I know."

"Did you check?" In response Ichigo rolled the corpse over onto its side and pulled away the jacket and t-shirt where he had made the incision with the knife. His companion glanced at it disappointed and then nodded. "You really were right. Are you absolutely sure?"

"These guys are too damn proud to not have that mark tattooed on their chests, Toriatsukai-san," Ichigo explained. "You know them. You know what they're like."

Toriatsukai nodded again and then frowned. "Nowhere else?"

"We're about to find out, I guess," and with that, Ichigo began stripping Oshima of all his clothing. First he removed the shredded jacket and t-shirt and folded them neatly. Then he removed the jeans and folded them too, and placed it with the jacket and t-shirt. He appraised the almost-naked body, and shook his head. "The mark's not anywhere else."

"There's one place you haven't checked yet." Ichigo stared at Toriatsukai, and then back at Oshima's corpse. The only part of the boy still covered up by his clothing were his genitals. He looked back at Toraitsukai again, who only egged him on wordlessly a serious look plastered on his usually playful face. Then he looked back at the corpse and swallowed. This was where he would draw the line. Killing was alright, blackmailing was alright, thieving was alright, stripping a guy stark naked was not - especially a guy. There was something especially immoral about that. He wondered if he'd have such as hard time if Oshima happened to be a girl. Probably not, he admitted. Throwing a quick glance at Toriatsukai, who was presently interested in his timepiece, and then back at the cadaver. He'd done it before, he would have to do it again. The knife tore through Oshima's boxers.

"There's nothing Toriatsukai-san..." Ichigo announced - not that he had expected to find anything.

"I guess you're right again, Kurosaki," Toriatsukai laughed and Ichigo scowled. Sometimes he got the feeling that Toriatsukai simply enjoyed watching him squirm. Upon seeing Ichigo's expression, Toriatsukai laughed some more.

"Oi, pervert," Ichigo shouted, "shouldn't you be out on the prowl for little boys out after dark? Or do you just get a kick out of watching me undress males?"

The man laughed again. "It was a genuine concern, Kurosaki. With these people you never do know what they will do. I wouldn't be surprised if at some point in my life I come across someone who has their allegiance tattooed on the inside of their body."

"Genuine concern my ass," Ichigo stood up grumbling, "I ain't chopping the kid up into little bits just to check if he was crazy enough to tattoo the inside of his stomach or penis or whatever." Gathering Oshima's clothes, he strode towards Toriatsukai, more serious. "It's not him, Toriatsukai-san. His gun wasn't even loaded."

"Looks like he didn't show up like he said he would."

For a long moment, Ichigo stared at Oshima's corpse blankly, and then at the crates behind the cadaver. He'd come here tonight with the intention of retrieving a message from the warehouse from one of his correspondents, and so he had. But he'd also come with the intention of meeting someone. Not Oshima - but someone who had never showed up. "Don't you think it strange though, Toriatsukai-san, that he didn't come." The other man looked up at him, apparently pulled from his own thoughts. "I mean. Would it not be ideal for him to intercept the message from our correspondent. To be quite honest, had he shown up with some others, I'm not sure I could have killed him."

"I know," Toriatsukai said. "Maybe they've got something else going-on though."

"Or maybe," Ichigo suggested, "they know something about all this that we don't. Maybe the message we were supposed to retrieve contains information they're already aware of. It's possible, right?"

"Anything is possible..." Pulling his cloak over his head, Toriatsukai strode away. "But for now, let's not dwell on the possibilities. Let's work with facts. Maebara Oshima is innocent. We made a mistake and killed him. And now we've got to clean up after ourselves, otherwise, we'll be in trouble."

He was right. Ichigo sighed, pulled a lighter from his black trench coat and set the corpse on fire. Oshima's bloody clothes tucked away under his arm, he stood and watched the body burn. The flames licked and licked until there was nothing left to devour but a skeleton and at that point they finally flickered and went out. All that was left was a corpse - a skeleton of a nobody. The message was tucked safely in his coat, as was his revolver. Oshima's clothes were still bundled under his arm. A rat was still out there - somewhere - wearing a pair of navy blue Revo sunglasses.

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**Notes: **

1) Revo is a sunglasses brand which is quite popular in Japan or used to be quite popular I am told.

2) Toriatsukai-san is not an OC, but rather a character from the original story whose name will be revealed later as the story permits.


End file.
